No Permanent Damage
by fizzingwhisbee
Summary: "Did I teach you nothing?" Wes thundered, bursting into the green room after the Warbler performance. A reaction drabble to a gif set on Tumblr. Rating for language/violence.


Based on the following gif set on Tumblr. limabeanmediumdrip (dot) tumblr (dot) com (slash) post (slash) 17787636932 (slash) things-are-really-going-to-pot-without-wes-in

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><p>"Did I teach you <em>nothing<em>?" Wes thundered, bursting into the green room after the Warbler performance. The walls shook as the door slammed open, causing several Warblers to jump in their seats.

"I swear, Wes, it wasn't my fault!" Trent nearly tripped over his feet in his haste to reassure Wes. "No one was listening to me, they never do-" At this, the Warblers all leapt up, pleading with Wes, voices steadily rising.

"We needed a leg up on the competition! You've seen McKinley's dancers!"

"-with Blaine gone-"

"-the judges needed to be wowed-"

"I don't know if what I've just witnessed was an attempt at winning Regionals or a _fucking boy band performance_!" Wes' nostrils flared, his hands clenched into fists. "The dancing was sloppy and badly orchestrated, th e song hardly showcased our best vocalists, and _where was the eight part harmony_? I barely heard _four_! And what was with everyone reaching their hands out towards the catwalk?"

"Sebastian said we needed more swagger-"

"Panache, if you will!"

"-we needed to stand out-"

"-couldn't do it any other way-"

"-absolutely necessary-"

"-Don't you want us to _win_?"

"ENOUGH!" The room immediately fell silent. Wes' chest heaved, his fingers twitching as if to grasp the gavel he no longer carried, the symbol of his former power. "Who. The _hell_. Is _Sebastian_?" His eyes flicked around the room, from Warbler to guilty Warbler, until they fell on the lanky form draped on a chair in the center of the room.

Wes strode forward, steps brisk, stopping sharply in front of Sebastian. Nothing. He raised an eyebrow, practically tapping his foot in expectation. Sebastian continued to ignore him, nonchalantly examining his fingernails. Wes cleared his throat angrily.

"_What_?" Sebastian finally looked up, face impassive, his posture annoyed.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you running this group into the ground?"

"Oh, please." Sebastian shifted, his legs returning to the ground from their position draped over the chair's arm. "I've been _helping_ them. All they knew how to do before me was choreograph tap-sidestep-snap-tap. Like that would win us Regionals. The reason the Warblers never got any further than Regionals was because they never had a Head Warbler who knew what the judges wanted. I mean, _really_," his eyebrow quirked. "Last year's duet? Sure, Blaine sang wonderfully, but the song choice was terrible and it was ruined by Kurt's unfortunate gay face and the inability of his balls to drop. If they even exist."

Wes' eyes darted over to where David and Thad were standing, shoulders slumped. "You let _this _asshole boss you around? After all the hard work we put in last year? I thought that even with Blaine gone, we could still stand a good chance as long as we stuck with what we knew worked and showcased our strongest vocalists! Instead, you're letting him run this group into the ground and tarnishing the Warbler name. What would our past Warblers think? What do you suppose _Blaine_ is thinking, sitting out there with New Directions?"

David shifted uncomfortably, not meeting Wes' eye. "Beats me, Blaine hasn't even spoken to us since the slushie incident."

"The _what_?"

"It wasn't a big deal," Thad supplied quickly, glancing at Sebastian out of the corner of his eye. "It was meant for Kurt, but we didn't know there was rock salt in it and Blaine's cornea healed fine after the surgery-"

"_SURGERY_? ROCK SALT? _BLAINE'S CORNEA_?" Wes' tone had reached deafening levels.

Every Warbler in the room leapt to their feet and bolted for the door, pushing each other in their haste, Trent falling to the ground and shrieking as a loafer-clad foot bounced off his back. They could practically hear Sebastian rolling his eyes behind them, his bored tone stating "he's fine, it's not like there was permanent damage, he's not even wearing an eyepat-"

The last sounds the Warblers heard as they fled was the crunch of fist meeting nose and the thunk of Sebastian's unconscious body hitting the ground.


End file.
